


Accidents Happen

by Ashley_vh



Series: Multifandom Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Asexual Raphael, Biting, Blood Drinking, First Kiss, Grey-Asexual Raphael, Kinda Non-Con Blood Drinking, M/M, Prompt Fic, Santiago Family, post season one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_vh/pseuds/Ashley_vh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Raphael finds Simon after too long without blood, he helps his fledgling.  But can Simon really help it if he gets a little... Carried away?<br/>OR<br/>The four accidental kisses of Raphael Santiago and Simon Lewis, plus the one time it wasn't an accident.</p><p>Read End Notes for warnings.</p><p>PROMPTS ARE OPEN!  My pairings are in the notes, please send prompts to my Tumblr: ashley-vh.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He really shouldn’t be out alone.  It’s a stupid risk with Camille free to kill him when she gets the smallest opportunity.  But he’s restless.  Being locked in the hotel all night long, only allowing a visitor or two when it was absolutely necessary, wears away on the nerves after a while.

It has nothing to do with the fact that just before sunset, through a surprisingly childish trail of texted information, Magnus told Raphael that his Shadowhunter had told him that Clary Fairchild was complaining about losing her brother/boyfriend and Simon being missing.

So he’s walking through the dark streets of the city a few minutes after midnight.  Not searching.  Just out for a walk.

He doesn’t know what it was that brings him to the building surrounded by dark green panels.  Maybe it’s the construction that hasn’t been worked on in months—union strike—that makes the place seem like a suitable hide out to someone who doesn’t know better. 

If he were hiding out, he wouldn’t go to a place like this.  Too open and easy to get in.  It takes him seconds to jump the panels, land silently, and get in the building without making a sound.  Somehow, some way that Raphael doesn’t want to look too far into, he knows Simon is here.  Hidden somewhere in the empty rooms.

He moves slowly, not bothering with rooms and floors he could hear were empty, moving through the building that is probably going to be turned into an office building after the unionized contractors were fired and replaced for one reason or another. 

Raphael stands in the stairwell and just listens, blocking out the sound of traffic and trains that nearly drowns out anything in the building.   He waits until there’s a tiny noise upstairs, shifting on the hard wood floor and soft breathing, and follows it until he gets to the door Simon is behind. 

The Fledgling probably doesn’t even know he’s there.  The Shadowhunters wouldn’t have thought to have him train his senses.

He opens the door slowly, keeps pushing with his fingers splayed wide on the wood until the metal knob bangs on the wall behind it with a sharp crack that echoes around the room.  And there he is, sitting on the floor beside a pile of blankets by the wall in what is an otherwise empty room with thick wooden slabs covering where the windows will go. 

He doesn’t look up when Raphael comes in the room, but he doesn’t have to.

“Look who it is,” he finds himself saying before he really means to.  Anger is white hot in his veins, but he doesn’t move from the door, “the betrayer.” 

The Fledgling shifts at his words, sort of folds in on himself, still not looking up.

“Look at you now,” Raphael says, stepping away from the door.  “All alone.”   He gets a sense of vindictive pleasure when Simon flinches.  “Where’s your precious Shadowhunter girlfriend?”  Raphael looks around the empty room, gesturing to the vastness of the space as more anger overcomes him at Simon’s silence. 

Just as he always has, the Fledgling is behaving like a petulant child who hasn’t gotten his way. 

“That’s all those Shadowhunters do.”  Raphael continues, his voice sharp and harsh in the quiet.  “Use Downworlders until they lose interest and stop caring.  That’s not what family does—”  He stops himself then, before he can say anything else.

He realizes then that he’s pacing.  Practically fidgeting.  He hates that.

So he stops, forcing himself to look down at the Fledgling sitting silently on the floor by the wall, well out of arm's reach.  This is unusual for him… he’s usually so talkative.  There’s no way Raphael would have been able to say all that without being interrupted.

Simon looks bad.  Pale and weak, sweating and shaking and obviously half-starved.  His hair needs washing. His clothes are filthy, covered in dirt, dust, and stains.  He looks like he hadn’t slept in days.  Something in Raphael twists at the look of his Fledgling.

Part of him thinks it would be a justice to let him starve for betraying the clan.  They used to have worse punishments for less serious crimes—

But that’s ridiculous. 

Just because a baby vampire made a mistake doesn’t mean he has to learn the hard way.  Yet.

And Raphael takes care of his own.

With a sharp, resigned huff, Raphael tugs off his jacket and carefully sits it on a less dusty part of the floor.  He can feel the interest radiating off the Fledgling in waves while he moves, rolling his shirtsleeve up.

He kneels by Simon, just inside of arm's reach with his hand balancing him on the dusty floor.  The floor is hard against Raphael’s knees, but he doesn’t shift.  Instead, he holds his arm out for the fledgling, the vivid blue veins clearly visible for him. 

Simon is still, not moving from his half sitting, half lying position, propped up with a trembling arm.  He is fighting Raphael’s offering.

So Raphael shifts closer.  He fed well that day, he knows the scent of it will be easy for a young, hungry vampire to smell and too difficult to be able to resist.  He’ll be fine if Simon takes some blood to get them both back to the hotel.

Yet still, the Fledgling resists.  Raphael can see the tension in his shoulders, the clenching in his jaw, as he fights the fangs itching to extend into Raphael’s skin. 

“I said Feed” Raphael orders, moves just a little closer.

His words shatter Simon’s resolve.  He moves so fast it’s a blur even to Raphael as he latches onto his offered wrist, biting hard and breaking the skin over the delicate veins and letting blood fill his mouth.  Simon is holding his arm with more delicacy than he expects from a starving vampire, raising his other hand to clutch at Raphael’s shoulder and keep him from moving away. 

Raphael tenses at the sharp pain of his teeth, but it’s not difficult to force his muscles to relax.  It’s not like he’s never done this before for a young fledgling, or bitten an older vampire after starving himself.  He knows it’ll be easier for the both of them if he isn’t tense.  So he relaxes, letting Simon suck the blood from his veins.

He really should teach Simon how to properly feed from a person.  There’s no need for the Fledgling to keep biting new marks into his wrist, but after every few seconds, Simon shifts to a slightly new area and sinks his fangs into Raphael’s skin, breaking away too roughly to leave the perfect puncture marks on his skin.  But Raphael doesn’t fight the gnawing.  Simon is too new and too hungry to really know better.

After a few more quiet seconds, no longer than a minute, he says, “Okay, that’s enough.”  He pulls his arm, tensing as the grip on him tightens and the teeth bite harder.  It’s almost too painful.  “I said that’s enough.”  He uses his ‘leader voice,’ as the clan likes to call it, and tries to pull away again.

Simon doesn’t let him move though.

In a fast, fluid movement Raphael didn’t think was possible from a vampire so hungry and weak, Simon moves in a flash.  Surging up, he uses the grip he has on Raphael’s wrist and a harsh grip on his other shoulder to push him back, pinning his bitten arm above his head as his back hits the dusty floor.   The tight grip on the torn flesh of his wrist stings enough to distract him as Simon falls on top of him, between his bent legs, pinning him to the ground.  Simon doesn’t even hesitate before sinking his fangs into Raphael’s neck.

Raphael sucks in a surprised hiss of breath from the sudden move.  The back of his head stings enough to tell him that he must have hit it against the hard floor and the grip the Fledging has on his gnawed at wrist twinges with Simon’s movement.   

A gasp forces itself from him as Simon is less _feeding_ from his neck than giving Raphael a hickey over the teeth marks on his skin, sucking the blood from him harder than was really needed.  

Despite himself, Raphael feels his fangs break out, sharp claws growing and biting into the skin of his palms at the feeling of Simon sucking at the sensitive skin on his neck.

At least Simon isn’t gnawing on him anymore.  But feeding from the neck is usually more natural for the new, more like the little love bites Mundanes give each other.

After too long, Raphael manages to bring the hand not pinned under the Fledgling’s hand up to the other’s shoulder, ready to shove him off—

But Simon is intent to stay where he is.  He uses the strength and speed of youth to brush off Raphael’s arm and pins it with the other.  It’s hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to hurt. 

He hadn’t wanted to hurt Simon to get him to stop, but he is ready for the possibility as the Fledgling stops sucking on his neck and licks across the puncture marks, causing goosebumps to rise on Raphael’s skin. 

But Simon doesn’t let his wrists go. 

Instead, he crashes their lips together.

The kiss isn’t anything like he thought it would be.  Not that he thought of kissing Simon before.

It’s hard and frantic, overly wet and warm from the blood Simon had been sucking out of him.  It shocks another gasp from Raphael, giving Simon enough access to all but shove his tongue in Raphael’s mouth, licking around their fangs.   

Raphael has tried his own blood before, out of curiosity mostly, but now his coppery taste is mixed with the added flavor of the Fledgling and the feel of his lips. 

He doesn’t mean to respond to the kiss, but he lets his eyes slip closed and he finds himself moving against Simon’s lips, itching to twist his fingers in Simon’s hair.  He realizes his tongue is flicking against Simon’s, spurring the young vampire on.

When Simon’s hips press against his with intent, showing Simon’s _interest_ in the activities and grinding down against him, Raphael can’t stop the little groan that escapes him.

It’s not hard to figure out when exactly the Fledgling stops being a bloodthirsty animal.  At the sound Raphael makes, Simon freezes.  His weight stops shifting on Raphael.  He goes still like a marble statue covering him with their hips and lips still pressed together. 

After half a second of stillness, Raphael opens his eyes and Simon breaks the kiss with an overly loud smack, pulling back enough to look at Raphael, like he was making sure his suspicions were correct.  His eyes are wide and frantic, studying Raphael like he’s hoping this isn’t real. 

Raphael could feel the heated blush form on his cheeks from being so close and studied so intensely.  He fights the urge to squirm away from his spot pinned to the floor.

Then Simon is gone.  Jumping away like he was burned.  The words tumble from him as he fidgets around, scrambling back until his back hits the wall he was hiding against.  “Oh my G-” he whispers like a mantra through his fangs, choking on the name of God as he looks anywhere but Raphael whose slowly sitting up, trying to ignore the wave of lightheadedness.  “I—I’m—” he starts to say something through his panting breaths.  He looks at Raphael with wide eyes. 

There’s color in on his cheeks now, blood smeared around his mouth and on his chin, blood on his hands where he was pinning Raphael’s wrist over his head.  There’s an obvious tent in his pants that shows what Raphael felt grinding against him.  The sight makes Raphael’s mouth practically water—

Then Simon vanishes, getting up and running off in a blur that kicked up dust and spare bits of papers in a rush of wind that sends a breeze through his hair. 

Raphael is panting too.  He hadn’t noticed before.  His breath is loud in the silent room, if he had a heartbeat anymore, it would be racing.  The itching in his skin where Simon bit is masked by the tingles around Raphael’s lips and the tiny shocks that run across his skin like electricity.  Without thinking, his tongue flicks out to taste the blood, his blood, smeared on his face from the kiss.

Simon is long gone.  The warehouse is silent and empty. 

And Raphael is sitting on the dirty floor bleeding onto the collar of his button up shirt.  He doesn’t even bother to mutter a curse, he stands on shaky legs.  He tells himself his knees wobble because the stupid Fledgling took too much blood from him and not the way his lips still tingle.

Slowly, Raphael looks down to his throbbing wrist, gnawed flesh smeared with too dark blood and dripping on the dusty floor.  If he were human, he would have to go to the hospital.  He sees the pink bloody imprints of Simon’s fingers over the bite.  Gently, he traces the lines with the pads of his fingers, smearing the blood and sending sparks of pain and something else across his skin.

He needs to see the bite on his neck.  As soon as possible.

A little glint in the corner of the room catches his eye.   There’s a chunk of broken mirror by the pile of blankets Simon was sleeping on. 

The glass is cold against his fingers, large, almost the size of his hand, and trembling a little before he forces his hands steady.  He tilts his head to the side, making it easier to see the smoother marks on his neck.

He was right; he can already see the bruise that is forming around the healing teeth marks that are dripping a steady line of blood down his skin.  He wonders if the bruise would last.

There’s still blood on his fingertips from his wrist when he ran his fingers around the holes in his skin, more goosebumps rise on his neck.

Looking at the mark on his neck, anyone seeing it would think it meant to claim—

He _likes_ it. 

The mirror slips from his fingers, landing on the blankets with a muffled clatter.  He’s not normally clumsy.  It must be the blood loss.

He should be getting back to the hotel.  The others will be concerned if he’s not back soon.  So, with his mind in a blur, he stumbles back to where he passed a bathroom, hoping the sink has running water to clean himself up.

Raphael moves silently through the empty building, half leaning on the wall as he walks.  He doesn’t think too much into the fact that walking is easier now.  It shouldn’t be.  He hasn’t replaced the blood Simon took, there’s no reason his knees should be less wobbly now.

The sink is in a ridiculously large bathroom with no lightbulbs in the sockets.  But there’s plenty of light for Raphael to see himself in the mirror.  His hair is a mess, his skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, blush is still high on his cheeks, his lips are kissed red and swollen, and his mouth is smeared with his blood that Simon drank from him.

He looks debauched. 

His skin still tingles like tiny shocks of electricity all over his body.  He can’t really deny the way his body reacted—his fangs still haven’t retracted, his breath has barely slowed.

He looks away from the mirror and twists the knob on the sink, letting the water run for a moment as he picks up Simon’s discarded tee-shirt from the side of the sink and ran it under the water.  It seems like justice in a way, using that shirt to clean his blood.  The Fledgling has ruined enough of his jackets to warrant a little revenge.

Raphael starts with his wrist, holding the cloth to his wound until it stops bleeding and cleans the blood off his skin.  He’s slow, methodical as he scrubs away the finger-shaped lines of drying blood and ignores the twinge in his gut at the loss.

The water runs red as he works, moving on to his neck and giving it the same treatment, leaning over the sink.  Fresh goosebumps spread as he presses against his neck, but Raphael ignores them.

Raphael can already feel the headache beginning to form that’s bound to linger for the rest of the night. Simon shouldn’t have taken so much… but Raphael can’t bring himself to be really angry about it as he cleans the blood that dripped to his collarbone. 

Accidents happen, especially to the new.

He hesitates cleaning the blood from around his mouth, remembering the feel of Simon’s lips on his, the way he moved with desperation.  Again, his tongue flicks out to taste himself, like he could still taste Simon on him.

Pursing his lips, he scrubs the blood from his face, feigning agitation he doesn’t really feel.

When he looks at himself again, he almost looks normal.  There’s still the blush that hasn’t faded.  The marks are still there, slowly healing.  And his mouth and chin are rubbed red.  His breath slowed while he worked.

He should really head back… clean his bite wounds properly.  He’s seen what happens when a bite gets infected, and it’s not a pretty picture.   

Hopefully he’ll be able to make it back to his room before any of the others notice the fresh marks on his skin or the blood on his shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/2/14

He runs.  He keeps running, through the city, from the water’s edge in Brooklyn, along the river, across a bridge with the constant thrums of trains rumbling beside him, through Manhattan, all the way up to Harlem.  His skin almost burns with the wind rushing by and the… events he’s running from.

The world blurs by.  It takes him less than 15 minutes to run what would have taken almost an hour on the subway.  When Simon stops, he stops suddenly, panting in sharp breaths he doesn’t need in the surprisingly empty street.

Well, it is the middle of the night.  No one in their right mind would be wandering through tightly cramped apartments at this hour.  Who knows what sort of monsters wander these same streets. Pausing in these same streetlights—

His skin is itchy still.  He can practically feel the phantom beating of his heart, too fast, fluttering like a frightened bird in his chest.  It’s like he’s thrumming out of his skin, the heartbeats from inside the houses he’s near beat like marching band tempos in his ears until he wants to let his fangs spring free.  Or he would, if they had ever retracted during his run. 

Simon hasn’t felt like this since he ran from his grave. 

When Raphael saved him, and helped him. 

And he just bit Raphael. 

He just _kissed_ Raphael. 

He is so dead.  Dead again.  Doubly dead, once Raphael sees him.

_Shit,_ he thinks.  He’s covered in blood and standing under a street light in a random neighborhood like no one would raise alarm.  They might not, this is New York City, after all.  But best to not take that chance.  He ducks into the dark alley behind him, walking backwards until his back hits the wall and he slinks down, sitting on the filthy pavement under the cloud cover.

Unbidden, his mind drifts, back to that warehouse he chose for the familiarity, back to having Raphael pinned under him, wrapped around him.  He can still feel the blood, warm under his hand, in his mouth—

He has to shake his head, shake away the images, digging his fingers into the pavement under him so his body will stop _reacting_ like he’s a teenager.  The feeling of Raphael’s strong body still flutters like a butterfly around the edges of his consciousness, clogging his senses and keeping him half hard in the darkness.

Curse his youth.

To focus on anything but the tingling around his bloody mouth, Simon traces back to what brought him to the filthy ground in Harlem.

He spent his days before finding himself in a warehouse at the Institute.  Clary had said no one would mind.  Simon helped the Clave revive a vital source of information in the forming war against Valentine after all.  He should be treated like a hero; there was no way they could have succeeded without him.

But that’s not what happened.

Being at the Institute as a lowly Downworlder was what Simon imagines being unpopular in high school is like.  He hadn’t been particularly _popular_ then, but he wasn’t unpopular either.  Other than the small group of friends he had, he was largely ignored.

But at the Institute, the spotlight of hate and glares was like choking.

Clary didn’t notice, of course.  She was too busy, focusing her attentions on training.  When she wasn’t training, she was trying to find her brother.  At first, she tried to talk to Simon, to keep him close while she worked, but that ended fast.  He couldn’t blame her though.  If he lost his sister, he would be just as inconsolable.

But it wasn’t supposed to be like that.  It wasn’t sisterly affection that fueled her, and it made anger curl in his belly.  He became increasingly frustrated with the whole lot of Shadowhunters.  He withdrew from Clary to the room in the basement where he could cover the windows.  He got increasingly fidgety.

There was no one else who cared to hang around him, to keep him company.  Izzy maybe, and Alec was warming up to him as much as Simon thought was possible for him, but Izzy had helped Clary look for Jace, and when that failed, she started looking elsewhere for answers all night long, and Alec’s time at the Institute not spent as leader had dwindled to nothing.

So, while Clary was busy repeating the same process, training and the same attempts at finding Jace, again that night, he left.

Without telling Clary.

Or answering her calls.

At the time, he vindictively thought it served her right.  She didn’t answer him when he needed her; let her feel the same way he did then.  He knew it was petty, but after a while, without the Shadowhunters providing it, the lack of blood caught up to him. 

The constant desperate, angry ringing of his phone made his head ache, so he turned it off.

He doesn’t really know how long he was in that warehouse.  Probably not that long, but it feels like ages he sat there, hidden from the sun and starving. 

It was then, in that empty building with covered windows, that he let himself think about what he gave up.

Simon hated to admit it then, but he liked being with the vampires.  They were more fun than the Shadowhunters were.  They played games with him.  Taught him to cheat at poker by listening to heartbeats.  Tried to train him.  Spent the first few hours of dawn together, even Raphael, not needing to talk, just working or chatting in the same space.  He’d never felt that before, that closeness bred from not having real family, not having anyone else like you, and it was comfortable.  Relaxing.

And he sold all of them out for the coldness and loneliness that the Shadowhunters offered him in return.

And the guilt consumed him.

Then Raphael came looking for him, let him stave off some hunger with his blood.  And Simon assaulted him for it.

Simon huffs and runs his fingers through his hair, his sharp nails scratching against his scalp until he hisses in pain but doesn’t stop.

He just has to talk to someone.  Someone who knows Raphael, but isn’t a vampire that wants to kill him. 

In a flash, he stands, not bothering to brush the filth off his jeans as he runs back the way he came.  He remembers once, after incessant questions about the past, Raphael had told him that he and Magnus had been close.  That’s all he had said, but now it’s enough for Simon to run to the Warlock’s apartment. 

The run is a blur, less wind cutting into his skin, but still the burn from memory.  He can feel the hunger eating at him, he runs slower, but he makes it to Magnus’ before it’s even 4am.

He knocks on the impressive wooden door before he can think better of it.  Simon knocks with importance, pounding on the door with his knuckles faster and harder than a human could.

Simon realizes his possible mistake when he feels the tickle of angry magic in the air.  Magnus throws open the door, dressed in loose silk pants and a loose tank top, his hair sleep messy and make up free, and he looks furious.

“What could you possibly want, you miserable—”  the insults that are no doubt waiting on Magnus’ tongue die in his throat when he takes in Simon’s appearance, shock-wide eyes travel over the vampire.

Simon doesn’t let him find his voice though, “I need help.” He says quietly, leaning closer to the doorway and out of the light.

“What the Hell did you do?” Magnus asks, not moving aside, he doesn’t sound frightened, only surprised and slightly angry.  Simon can hear the fluttering of his fast heartbeat.

There’s movement behind him, a person with a strong steady heartbeat appears in the entryway, investigating the racket.  “Magnus, what’s wrong?” Alec asks, peering around Magnus’ shoulder.  His hair is just as messy as Magnus’, but his voice is slightly more alert.  When the Shadowhunter catches sight of Simon, it takes him less than half a second to snap up, alert and every inch the protector of the Mundane world he is trained to be.  “Did you kill someone?” he asks sharply, not being all that subtle about nudging in front of Magnus.

It would be adorable if the words weren’t insane.  “What?” he asks, “No!” Simon struggles to keep his voice down as he snaps back at Alec.

“You’re covered in blood.”  Magnus points out simply, letting Alec stay in front of him even though he knows a fledgling Vampire wouldn’t even have a chance of looking wrong at Magnus before the Warlock turned them to dust.

Simon rubs at the dried blood around his mouth, “I didn’t kill anyone,” he says, giving up on the hopeless task.  “I need your help.”

Alec is still glaring at Simon like he’s not sure if he can trust it when there’s a Vampire covered in blood right in front of him.  Magnus leans on the wall in his entryway, “Clary was looking for you,” he says, rubbing at his makeup free eye, “Perhaps she can—”

“No!” Simon interrupts Magnus so forcefully he can hear the uptick in Alec’s heartbeat, like he was readying himself to fight off a hungry young Vampire.  “It’s about Raphael.” Simon says, hoping that’s enough.  He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand on this stairwell yelling without someone complaining.

Magnus looks at him with an unreadable expression.  After a long few seconds, he sighs, pushing away from the wall, “Let him in, Alexander.”

The Shadowhunter barely has time to argue before Magnus says, “He’s not going to hurt us, and it must be important if he’s interrupting my beauty sleep at four in the morning.”  He turns when Alec moves aside for Simon to enter the apartment, muttering just loud enough to hear, “At least it _better_ be important.”

Simon doesn’t want to find out if the threat he hears is genuine.

Magnus throws himself onto the couch, stretching out and waving a hand for Alec to sit beside him.  “What do you want, Sheldon?”  Magnus asks.

“Simon,” he corrects immediately.  He doesn’t sit down, instead, he paces, looking at the floor.  Distantly, he thinks he should sit, be calm, but he can’t.  Scrubbing a hand through his dirty hair, he suddenly looks up, looking at the rumpled sleep clothes Magnus and Alec are wearing, “oh shit,” he says, “Did I interrupt—”  he waves a hand between them.

Alec’s eyes widen a little, but it’s Magnus who speaks, “More like the after—” 

The Shadowhunter slaps his leg with a sharp smack, “what did you need help with?”  Alec asks in a rush, making Magnus smile fondly at him.

He goes back to pacing, sharp and erratic and too fast, but neither of them say anything about it as Simon gathers his thoughts.  “I was hiding out in a warehouse,” he starts, “I hadn’t thought about how I was going to get blood.”  He can hear Alec shift, like he’s waiting for Simon to say he killed a Mundane, but he ignores it.  “Then Raphael found me and—” he cuts himself off and turns away, looking out the big window to the city around him.  Maybe he shouldn’t have come… what if Magnus gets angry at him? He has every right to—

“What happened with Raphael?”  Magnus speaks with more gentleness than Simon expects, prompting him to go on.

Simon turns from the city, back to the apartment but doesn’t look at Magnus and Alec staring at him from the couch.  “Raphael found me and let me feed from him and I,” he hesitates.  He can practically feel the shock radiating off Magnus, but the Warlock doesn’t show it, he just sits on that couch beside his boyfriend with his eyes sparkling with something Simon can’t name. 

His heart would be racing if it could as he paces in a little circle, scratching the back of his neck.  Unbidden, he wonders if Raphael would have grabbed him there if he hadn’t pinned his arms—“and I-I didn’t mean to, but it was just so long since I fed, and I’ve never fed from someone’s neck before.  I just lost control,” he says, stopping again in front of the couch, looking at the floor, “and I uh—”

“Oh my God.”  Magnus says, snapping Simon from his blabbering with an excited voice.  He leans his elbows on his knees and delighted surprise colors his features, “You kissed him!”

Simon’s cheeks heat up as he buries his face in his hands, unable to fully look at the Warlock.  He hears a shuffling from the couch and peeks through his fingers to see Magnus’ fingers flying over the screen of his phone.  Suddenly, Simon snaps his hands away from his face and he starts talking again, “And I don’t know why I did it!” he says, “I’m not gay.  I mean, I’ve had _feelings_ for guys before, but I was in love with Clary, so—”  with a huff he changes the direction of his pacing, talking more with his hands than his mouth as he twitches towards the window again, “everything was just so intense, it overwhelmed me.  And Raphael hates me.  It was the hunger that made me stupid—”

“Don’t start making wedding plans yet, Solomon,” Magnus says with more understanding than Simon had expected, sitting his phone on the arm of the couch with a soft thud.  “One bloodlust-crazed kiss does not a sexuality make.”  With a snap of his fingers, a warm wet washcloth appears in Simon’s hand, and he tries not to flinch at the sudden feeling, “Maybe you’re bisexual, maybe you’re not.  Think about it.  Do some soul searching.  Think about your feelings.” 

Alec speaks before Magnus can continue, “And, I’m guessing,” the Shadowunter says hesitantly, “since he let you feed from him and you’re not dead, Raphael probably doesn’t hate you.”

Magnus smiles warmly at Alec, “He’s right.  If Raphael really hated you, you’d be dead.”  Magnus stands and Alec follows his lead, “Clean the blood off your face,” he says, “Go back to the clan, and see if they’ll forgive you.”  He smiles a little and waves Simon towards the door.  “And get out of my apartment.” 

Simon nods, the fluttering psudeo-heartbeat in his chest soothed by the couple’s words.  He starts to scrub at the blood around his mouth, but he pauses in front of Magnus and Alec, “Thank you,” he says, starting to walk towards the door and rubbing at his mouth again. 

Before he passes the couch though, he stops, lowering the towel and looking up at Alec, “By the way,” he says, glancing at Magnus with a smirk then eyeing the Alec and trying not to laugh at the Shadowhunter’s confused face, “congrats on the sex.”

He races to the door with his vampire speed before the words fully sink in.  Simon moves just slow enough so he can turn to see Alec’s surprise.  He runs out the door just as Magnus starts laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was plotting the chapters after the next two, and then everything in the fic got intense, and so this is easily going to be 12 chapters, along with two small ish stories that haven't been put in the timeline yet...
> 
> Let me know what you think so far!

**Author's Note:**

> Though he didn’t mind very much, Raphael did tell Simon to stop, so I tagged the Non-Con just in case. This isn’t betaed, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I haven’t decided where I want to end this fic, but expect at least one more chapter. I’m playing with three or four more chapters, but I haven’t nailed anything down yet… let me know what you think so far.
> 
> I’m looking for prompts! If you have a prompt for Malec, Saphael, Clizzy, Tuckington, Destiel, Sterek, or Stucky, feel free to leave them in the comments or in my ask box on Tumblr: ashley-vh.tumblr.com 
> 
> Next prompt coming: Saphael multichapter Cinderella AU


End file.
